Semua Bab In the Arms of the Enemy’s Brother : Bab 1 - Bab 10

Serena’s POV The alarm never rings in this apartment. Liam hates sudden noises, so the lights just start to brighten slowly, like the sun is rising inside the walls. At 6:15 exactly, the bedroom turns from black to soft gray. I feel the change on my eyelids before I open them. I keep perfectly still. He is already awake. I know it the way animals know a storm is coming. The air is different when Liam is watching me. It feels heavier, like someone poured water into it. I lie on my left side, knees pulled up a little, arms tucked under the pillow, pretending I’m still asleep. My heart is already beating too fast. I count in my head. One… two… three… I reach thirty before the mattress moves. The sheet slides down my shoulder, cool air touching my skin. His fingers (warm, dry, careful) brush the hair away from my neck. He does it the same way every morning, like he is uncovering something he owns. “Serena,” he says, voice low, almost a whisper. “Open your eyes, baby.” I o

Liam POV I sit in the back of the Maybach, the partition up, the world outside muted to a dull gray blur. The city can scream all it wants; nothing gets through this glass unless I allow it. My phone is in my right hand. The screen is dark, but I know exactly what the last photo she sent me looks like: Serena in the cream silk blouse I chose, camel skirt hugging her hips, those long legs in the nude Louboutins. She smiled for the camera the way I taught her (lips closed, eyes soft, a little shy). Perfect. Mine. I swipe again anyway, just to feel it in my chest. The picture was taken at 9:12 a.m. It is now 10:47 a.m. She should be at Madame Laurent’s atelier by now, standing on that little round platform while the French woman crawls around her with pins in her mouth. I paid extra so there are no other brides today. Only Serena. Only my future wife. I zoom in on her face. Her green eyes look back at me, a little too wide, a little too careful. I hate when she looks careful.

Liam POV The helicopter touches down on the East 34th Street heliport at 8:09 p.m. I tell the pilot to keep the rotors warm. I won’t be long. I walk straight to the black Range Rover waiting at the curb. Marco is behind the wheel, eyes forward. He knows better than to ask questions tonight. “Sixty Vestry Street. Penthouse B. Chloe texted me the code this afternoon: 0824# She ended the message with a single peach emoji and a devil. The drive takes seven minutes. I spend all seven staring at the photo Serena sent me an hour ago (her in the pale-blue satin slip I told her to wear, lying on our bed, hair spread on the pillow like spilled ink). She thinks I’m still in Connecticut. She thinks I’ll walk in around midnight, untie those little bows with my teeth, and reward her for being obedient. She has no idea I’m already hard for someone else tonight. The elevator opens directly into Chloe’s apartment. All the lights are off except the under-cabinet glow in the kitchen and the cit

Serena’s POVThe Maybach rolled to a stop in front of the Voss family estate just after seven. The house glowed under floodlights, its white walls gleaming like they wanted to look warm, welcoming, inviting. The ocean breeze carried the smell of salt and freshly cut grass. My black dress felt tight across my chest, the neckline too low, the hem too short. Liam had chosen it this morning, laying it out like a gift I wasn’t sure I wanted. He said I looked elegant. I felt exposed, like something he wanted everyone to see and claim.Liam turned off the engine and looked at me. For a split second, his blue eyes softened, the tension in his jaw disappearing as if he could be charming for one heartbeat. Then his hand squeezed my knee, firm and heavy.“You ready, baby? Everyone’s excited to see you.”I nodded and tried to smile. “Ready.”He opened my door, offered his hand. Warm, strong, inescapable. His fingers brushed mine and lingered. Side by side, we walked up the wide stone steps. His a

Serena’s POV After weeks of planning, the day finally came. I woke up with that strange feeling in my chest again the one that felt like excitement and fear sitting in the same place. The room was still quiet, the early morning light slipping through the curtains like it was afraid to wake me. For a moment, I stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft hum of the city below the hotel. Today was my bridal shower. Everyone kept saying how lucky I was. How blessed. How perfect everything looked. I pressed my hand to my stomach and took a slow breath. The planning had taken weeks. Endless calls, messages, fittings, arguments over colors, flowers, food. Chloe had taken control early, insisting she wanted everything to be “perfect.” She said it with a smile that never quite reached her eyes. I told myself she meant well. I always told myself that. I got out of bed and padded into the bathroom, the cold marble floor waking me up fully. The mirror showed a woman who